


Air Pocket

by Icecat62



Category: due South
Genre: Airplane Sex, F/M, Gen, Humor, Mile High Club, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icecat62/pseuds/Icecat62
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser and Thatcher join the mile high club. An OBX fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Air Pocket

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to RedSuitsYou@yahoogroups.com. - June 2001.  
> Special thanks go to some of the OBX gang: Jim-our list prince, MB, Scout and Missy who inspired this!

Meg rubbed at her temple, frowning in irritation. The fax that she received from Toronto was unforgivable. Whoever sent this to her had to be insane. She was an Inspector in the R.C.M.P., why in God's name would she need to go through a few weeks of basic training maneuvers with the new cadets? What asshole thought this up? It had to be some raving lunatic.

As she turned over the first page of the fax, she held her breath. The rage blew through her like a hurricane force wind. Cloutier. It would figure he would think of something as sick and humiliating as this. As she read further down the fax, she cringed. *That son of a bitch!* She was instructed to bring a constable with her. A specific constable. Fraser. This would be the ultimate humiliation. Having Fraser accompany her. He was to be her 'bunk mate'.

Cloutier had made her life a living hell in Toronto and now, even when she was cast away to a far off American city, he still managed to grab her by the throat and interfere with her life and career. Closing her eyes, she rested her head in her hands. Counting to ten, she willed the headache that was starting behind her eyes to go away.

Fraser. She would be stuck in a close proximity with him for two weeks. Two weeks of running. Two weeks of sweating. She got a visual of Fraser standing next to her...shirtless...panting from the exertion, the sweat running down his chest. Taking a deep breath, she pushed away from her desk. She shouldn't be thinking of Fraser like that, but the nagging image of him leaning over her all hot and sweaty wouldn't leave her mind.

Shaking her head, she cursed herself for being weak. Gripping the fax tightly in her hand, she left her office and began walking in the direction of Fraser's office. Licking her lips nervously, she slowed down and came to a stop in the hall way. How in the hell was she going to get through two weeks of living with Fraser without letting him know her true feelings? It was hard enough dancing around her feelings at the office, what was it going to be like when she had to sleep in the same room with him?!

With uncertain steps, she continued down the hall until she came to his office. Raising a hand to knock on the door, she paused. What was she going to say? Running the same hand through her hair, she looked down at what she was wearing. *Damn it!* She had pulled the skirt and jacket out of the closet without even thinking. Then again, how was she to know this fax would be coming? Tugging at the short red skirt, she tried to cover as much leg as she could. *Oh why bother!*

Her lips thinned and she raised her fist to the door and rapped on it. Before Fraser could respond, she opened the door and stomped in. Fraser jumped up from his desk, slamming his knee on the underside. As he staggered to his feet and stood at attention, he could immediately sense that Thatcher was in one of her angry moods that usually ended up with him being the cause of it. She stepped up to his desk and tossed the fax down before him. Her voice was sharp and cutting.

"Fraser, you and I are to report to Ottawa on the fifteenth. We are to attend two weeks of the current academy." Resting his fingers on the papers before him, Fraser fought back the urge to smile. He would be going to Ottawa for two weeks. Two weeks of doing drills. Two weeks of running free through the training grounds. Two weeks of arms training. Then it hit him. He would have to spend two weeks in a close proximity with Meg Thatcher.

His eyes raised from the fax to look at her, seeing the tight lines around her lips. He pictured those lips pressed against his in a passionate kiss, melting away all the anger, before turning the anger and irritation into steaming passion. Those red lips that would kiss his hardened flesh. He tried to push aside those thoughts.  
How in the hell was he going to spend two weeks alone with her? How could he cover how he felt? There had been so many close calls where he had almost blurted out that he loved her. If he were to spend two weeks alone with Thatcher, he was bound to screw up and let her know exactly how he felt. The words escaped his lips before he could stop them. "Oh dear."

Thatcher felt her lips twitch in amusement. "My thoughts exactly." Fraser felt his face heating up with the familiar blush that he wore so often around his commanding officer. "Pack lightly Constable, we're going to be in training, not on vacation." Without saying another word, she spun on her heel... (Fraser noted the spiky heels, wishing she would wear them while...but that's another story) ...and stalked out of his office.

Fraser let out the breath he had been holding, letting his posture relax. The door slammed back open and he jumped to attention as Thatcher stomped back in. Reaching his desk, she snatched the fax up, gave him an icy glare and left again. Once he heard her office door down the hall slam shut, he flopped back in his chair. Running his hands over his face, he sighed. How could he do this? How could he make it through two weeks of being alone with Thatcher without letting her know how he felt? It was going to be the longest two weeks of his life.

Down the hall, Thatcher slammed the door to her office shut and walked stiffly to her desk. Flopping in the chair, she ran her hands over her face and sighed deeply. How was she going to do this? How was she going to make it through two weeks alone with Fraser when she had to fight the urge to grab him in his office and ravish him then and there?! Those eyes of his. The brown uniform that clung to all the right places. God help her it was going to be a long two weeks!

**********

Fraser tugged nervously at the collar of his brown uniform. He had deposited his rucksack at the luggage counter and now he had a perfect view of Thatcher bending over to check her own pack. He loved the shape of her ass. It was tightly packed into a narrow, thigh high skirt, those long legs seemed to tease him, begging him to run his hands along their smooth toned surface. Closing his eyes, he swallowed down his excitement.

He longed to rest his hands on her rear, squeezing its firmness as he took her roughly from behind. His eyes snapped back open and he took a deep shuddering breath and shifted his stetson in front of the slight bulge in his crotch. He knew he was in deep trouble. There was no way in hell he was going to make it through two weeks alone with Thatcher without screwing up. *No, not screw...well...yes that is the definition, but up isn't what I want...or yes, up...no!*

As Thatcher straightened from her task, she turned to Fraser finding him blushing a deep red. He began to panic as she stared at him. Did she have any idea that he spent an inordinate amount of time mentally using her as a sexual plaything? No...he had to admit to himself that he didn't think of her as a plaything. Yes, he did want her, but he also wanted her to want him. He wanted to have her take him, consume him.

Tucking his head down, he gave himself a quick mental shake. His thoughts were becoming increasing disjointed. Yes, Meg Thatcher was his commanding officer, but she was still a woman and no matter how hard he had tried, he knew he could never forget that fact. With her soft brown eyes and chestnut hair that he ached to run his fingers through, he knew that no matter what title she would have before her name, nothing could stop him from feeling what he felt. And at that moment he felt like a complete, hopeless idiot of a man who couldn't control his baser sexual emotions.

Boarding the plane, Thatcher wearily made her way down the isle. She was exhausted. Having to make all of the arrangement for their trip, getting the consulate in order and worrying how she was going to survive the entire ordeal had left her feeling drained.

Coming to their isle, she sighed and stepped back. "Constable, you may have the window seat."

Fraser stowed his stetson in the overhead compartment, then gave her a pleasant look. "No thank you Sir, you can have..."

Thatcher fought the urge to snap off a smart assed remark and kept her tone neutral as she cut him off. "I'm not doing it to be polite Fraser, I prefer to not sit by the window."

"Oh." Moving past her, Fraser sat down, his posture stiff.

Thatcher rolled her eyes. It was going to be a long two weeks.

Settling down, they lapsed into a strained silence. As the plane took off, Thatcher peeked at Fraser through the corner of her eye. He had turned slightly to look out the window. A small smile graced his lips. She knew why he was smiling. At night the world lit up in a colorful display on the ground. Houses and cars became diamonds and glittering stars in varying patterns and shapes. She trailed her eyes over his profile, noting the strong jaw and chin, then moving to the finer features of his lips and nose. She held her breath as her heart beat faster. He was too close. Resisting the urge to reach out and rest her hand on his thigh, she chose to grab a magazine from the holder on the seat before her.

As the plane leveled off, the lights dimmed further. Reaching up, she turned on the small light above her, illuminating her lap. Leaning back, she aimlessly flipped through the pages, trying to distract her mind from the man next to her. It was getting harder and harder to keep her hands from dropping the magazine and letting them run through his hair and over his body. Gripping the magazine tightly, she repeated over and over again, the regulations pertaining to the conduct of an officer.

Fraser leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Waiting until she was sure he was asleep, Thatcher turned in her seat to get a better look at her slumbering constable. His lips were slightly parted, his features relaxed. The magazine in her lap lay forgotten as she openly stared at him. This was going to be impossible. She wanted to kiss him, touch him...she wanted Fraser to hold her and love her.

Images of Fraser naked and aroused came to mind. Those musings of hers had increased, the closer they had gotten to leaving on their trip. She pictured running her hands down his chest, grasping his length between her hands, stroking at the hardness of him. She felt a wetness spread between her legs as she thought of him plunging that same hardness into her until she screamed in pleasure.

"Blanket?"

Thatcher jerked in surprise as a voice by her shoulder suddenly spoke to her. "What? Oh...yes...thank you." Taking the blanket from the stewardess, she quickly opened it and covered herself. It was as if she were trying to hide her lust underneath the dark cotton material. Looking back at Fraser, she was surprised to find guilt now weighing her down. She was pathetic. Fraser was too innocent to ever think of just taking her like an animal in heat. He was a gentleman if there ever was one. With an almost maternal gesture, she draped the blanket over him as well.

Leaning back, she closed her eyes, trying to relax, but it was virtually impossible. All she could think of was Fraser. She leaned closer. He wouldn't even know what she was doing. Resting her head lightly against his shoulder, she sighed. Why couldn't she tell him how she felt? Why not use this time alone to get to know him in a more intimate way? Closing her eyes she knew exactly why. Their positions would always be between them. Or did it really matter what they did in the scheme of things? After all they were both being punished by being posted in Chicago. What more could be done to them other than kicking them out of the R.C.M.P. altogether?

Breathing in the scent of him, she snuggled closer, listening to the sound of his heart beating in a soothing rhythm. He was warm, comforting...hot, sexy. It was driving her crazy. She felt like she was back in high school in her bedroom, late at night, mooning over the cute looking boy in gym class. Shifting a bit, she let her hand slowly trail down her thigh and then back up. Licking her lips nervously, she drew her hand higher, pushing her skirt up. Rubbing at herself through her panties and stockings, she sighed in irritation. This wasn't going to do dick except frustrate her even more.

Fraser suddenly shifted and she slipped to the side. Her head was now resting on his chest. She moved a hand around his waist to push away from him and he shifted again. Holding her breath, she froze. Her face was now in his lap, her hand lay on his thigh. To make matters worse, Fraser moved again. She could tell that he was now fully awake by the tightening of the muscles in the thigh beneath her hand. Years of training kept her from moving. *Pretend you're asleep! Pretend you're asleep!*

It took a few moments for him to relax and when he did, she relaxed as well. Another minute passed...then it happened. She felt his hand rest on the back of her neck. Light as a feather, he ran his fingers through her hair. Keeping herself relaxed, she resisted the urge to purr as he continued to gently stroke her hair. Opening her eyes slightly, an evil smile appeared on her lips.

Her face was in his crotch...she couldn't help herself. Shifting slightly, she nuzzled her face into his lap, drawing a gasp from him. Pressing her face into him, she settled herself once more. He would think she was sleeping while she knew otherwise. Keeping still, she smiled as she felt a small movement beneath her cheek. She listened to his breathing as it shifted from even to strained panting breaths. She knew he was trying to suppress his raging hormones, but if she had her way, they would soon be out of control. A runaway!

His hand rested lightly on her back, then it moved slowly to the nape of her neck where his fingers brushed aside her hair to rub at her skin. Goose bumps ran down her spine at his touch and she was now the one struggling to control her breathing. Maybe teasing Fraser wasn't the brightest idea she ever had. How was she going to extricate herself from her current predicament?

Thatcher was about to sit up when she made a bold decision. Why not do what she wanted to do? How many opportunities would she have to be alone like this with him? She moved her hand down to his crotch. He started at her touch, then tensed up again. As she rubbed at him, she felt him growing hard beneath the material of his dark brown pants. The hand that had been gently touching her neck, now ran down her back, clutching at her body as she pressed against him.

Her shaking fingers found the button on his pants, then she slowly pulled the zipper down, swearing that it sounded like it echoed loudly in the confined area of their seats. His hand stilled their movements on her back as she inched her hand into his pants and worked her way into his boxers. As her fingers wrapped around him, she felt Fraser push back in his seat. His other hand now caressed the top of her head.

Tightening her grasp, she sat up, locking eyes with him. She had expected to see that deer in a headlights look that he wore so often around her. Instead he regarded her silently, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Without any warning, his hand reached past her and slapped the night light off. He pulled her to him, his lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss. When his tongue touched her lips, she opened her mouth to him.

As they kissed, she twisted her hand around his hardened length, eliciting a deep moan from him. Pulling roughly back, she placed a hand over his mouth, whispering hotly to him. "Be quiet Ben." He nodded yes before pushing her hand away from his mouth and pulling her back to him to resume their embrace. 

Kissing a path down his neck, Thatcher nibbled at an earlobe and licked his pulsing jugular. Removing her hand from his boxers, she began unbuttoning his jacket, sighing in frustration at the shirt she had to undo as well. While she worked at the buttons, Fraser was busy as well. His hands had pulled her blouse out from her skirt and were now running over the material of her silk bra. As she pulled his shirt back, she tensed as felt him slip a hand under her bra.

Running her tongue over the smooth skin of his chest, she sighed as he worked a thumb over a nipple, teasing her with the lightest of touches. Working her way southward, she wrapped a hand around his erection, feeling the blood pounding beneath her finger tips. When she dipped her head down and began sucking at the tip, Fraser clutched her shoulder, digging his fingers painfully into her skin.

Ignoring the pain, Thatcher took more of him into her mouth letting her tongue flick and slide over the hot smooth skin. His grip on her lessened as she pulled back and then dipped down again. Establishing a smooth bobbing rhythm, she held back a smile as he thrust his hips upward. Taking her free hand, she held him down, restricting his movements. She had never deep throated a man before and now wasn't the time to attempt that maneuver. She felt him tightening and suddenly he grabbed her by the shoulders and drug her upward. Holding her tightly against his chest, he whispered shakily in her ear. "Not...not now...I want you..." He panted as if he had been running, she could feel his heart pounding in an irregular rhythm.

Pushing back to look in his eyes, she smiled mischievously. "You want what Fraser?"

Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand down her cheek. "You...I want you."

"Now?" Her teasing smile, brought a similar one to Fraser's face. Biting her lip, Thatcher moved away from him. Reaching under her seat, she dug through her purse. Her fingers closed around her intended target and she moved back to him.

Holding the small packet out, she slowly ripped the foil, then extracted the condom. She smiled seductively as she rolled it on Fraser's cock. It twitched in anticipation, sending a shiver down her spine. She was finally going to have him. The fact that they were on a plane didn't stop her. The blanket would come in handy. Fraser must have been reading her mind, because he reached down and pulled it back up and around them, effectively hiding them from any possible prying eyes. Yes, after all this time and after all this waiting...she was finally going to have him.

Leaning against Fraser's chest, Thatcher pressed her lips to his. Pushing her tongue into his mouth, she sighed as he suckled it. His hand slipped down her side then cupped her ass, pulling her tightly to him. His erection pressed into her stomach as they grappled under the blanket.

Thatcher gasped in shock as Fraser pushed her roughly away, only to twisted her around so that she now faced away from him. His breath was hot on her neck as he pulled her back to him. She arched against him as he slid a hand between her thighs. Hiking her skirt up, he ran a finger under her panties, slowly trailing it along her center.

She held her breath as he pushed his finger in and rocked his hips against her ass as he spoke in a whisper in her ear. "Meg...may I?"

She almost burst out laughing. Here they were with their clothing pushed and pulled apart, Fraser's erection was pressed against her ass and his finger was deep within her and the man was asking permission to fuck her? Only Fraser, she reasoned would ask a question as stupid as this. Tilting her head back, she smiled. "What do you think Constable?"

His face pressed against her back, muffling a chuckle. His finger slipped away and the blanket that covered them was pulled higher. His hand returned to clasp a thigh, hiking her leg up. She felt him slide between her legs as they jockeyed for a better position. She braced her hands against the arm of her seat and resisted the urge to cry out as Fraser pushed into her slick opening. Tucking her chin down, she muffled a moan as he slowly began to thrust into her.

Fraser breathed in silent pants against her shoulders and when he began to nibble at the back of her neck, Thatcher choked back a scream. Their seats rocked slightly as he increased his thrusts, then suddenly he froze, burying his face against her neck, holding his breath. Thatcher froze as well, not knowing what was wrong, but if Fraser was playing wooden Indian then there had to be something wrong.

As a flight attendant walked past them, Thatcher's heart raced in fear. They had almost been caught! She strained to hear the retreating footsteps, breathing a sigh of relief when she didn't hear them coming back. As she twisted her body slightly back to say something to Fraser, he held her tighter than before, resuming his thrusts with increasing speed.

Gritting her teeth, she knew Fraser was close to his release. When he thrust hard against her, muffling a groan, she felt him pulsing within. She frowned as he pulled away from her. She couldn't believe he was going to stop before she had reached her own release. Turning to him, she never had the chance to question him. He pulled her close, slipping inside her once more.

They lay face to face in the cramped seats, their lips barely touching. He pinned her down against the seat and began moving into her heat. Closing her eyes, she lay her head back, softly moaning as he sucked gently at her neck. He slipped a hand between them and began rubbing softly at her nub. Jerking at his touch, she struggled to wrap her arms around him. Keeping her one arm pinned down, his smile was feral as she tried to move it free so that she could wrap both her arm around to hold him.

Increasing his thrust, he stared down at her, making Thatcher forget all about trying to hold him. When she began to clench around his length as she climaxed, he claimed her mouth in a hard kiss, stifling her cries of pleasure. The kiss turned softer as he slowed his movements and rested against her. Giving her one final kiss, he pulled out from her moistness and released her arm so that they could embrace. Caressing the back of her head, he cradled her body against his.

They lay there for a minute curled against one another, their bodies shaking with their efforts, both of them physically spent. Kissing her softly, Fraser wordless moved away and began to pull his clothing back together. They both remained silent, casting satisfied smiles at one another. Pulling the condom off, he held it between two fingers. He looked around not knowing what to do with it. Thatcher paused as she straightened her skirt. Seeing his dilemma she reached into the seat before her and plucked out an air sick bag and handed it to him.

He took it from her, his reply a mumbled thank you kindly. She could picture the blush rising to his cheeks, causing her to snicker. Fraser hurriedly shoved the used condom into the bag and rolled it up tightly. Tucking himself in, he quickly pulled the remainder of his clothes into place. Picking the blanket up from the floor where it had slid, Fraser stood and deposited it in his seat.

His voice was soft. "Pardon me, Meg." He slipped past Thatcher, jumping forward as she cupped his ass as he brushed by her. Walking silently down the isle, he made his way to the bathroom. Just as he reached it, the flight attendant walked toward him. He froze again, afraid that he and Thatcher's tryst had not escaped notice. The attendant looked at him, keeping her voice low so as to not awaken any of the passengers.

"Are you feeling all right sir?"

Fraser was momentarily confused, then it clicked in. He knew he must have looked a bit red face and frazzled. "I...yes...I am, thank you kindly Miss..." He looked at her name tag. "...Katie." She smiled and nodded at him before walking away. Breathing a sigh of relief, he entered the rest room to dispose of the evidence of his and Thatcher's joining.

The remainder of the flight was spent cuddling together in their seats, talking softly of what the next two weeks in Ottawa would hold for them. When the plane landed, they moved to the exit, keeping close together. At the exit, the same flight attendant that had walked past them and talked to Fraser at the bathroom gave them both a bright smile. "Thank you for flying Air Canada, I hope you come again." She handed them both small pins as they walked off the plane.

Slowly walking down the exit ramp, Fraser and Thatcher glanced down with confused expressions at the pins resting in the palms of their hands. Neither one of them were first time flyers and hadn't said anything to the flight attendant to make her believe that they were. Thatcher's mouth dropped open in shock and Fraser almost passed out on the spot. The pins were gold maple leafs with wings, their inscriptions reading, Mile High Club.

END


End file.
